Rebellion is in Our Blood
by InkheartFirebringer
Summary: Desmond was only given two choices in the end, and he gambled everything on a slender hope; but what if that gamble paid off in an unexpected way? AU, alternative ending to Assassin's Creed 3.
1. Life

**A/N: I don't know if you, like me, were deeply upset by the end of Assassin's Creed 3, but I felt the need to write an alternative ending, since it's pretty clear we won't be seeing any more of Desmond. I was quite attached to him and damn it, it was a such a pointless waste! All his training in the Animus, assimilating the skills of his ancestors…I would quite like to see a story where he survives and goes on help the Brotherhood in the present day with his mad skills. :P Anyway, that's a tale for another time. Read on!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own it.**

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**Rebellion is in Our Blood**

**Chapter One: Life**

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Trapped.

It was a horrible, sick feeling, fluttering in his chest, as if his heart was being crushed under the weight of the pressure. The heavy, leaden pressure of this impossible decision.

Desmond stood in the centre of the room, while the shades of two Goddesses prowled around him, golden and shining and deadly, while his fellow Assassins stood struck dumb by the power radiating from the very walls of the room. He _knew_, in some indefinable way, that they could feel it beating against their skin with the strength of the summer sun, white heat shimmering through the air and making it difficult to breathe, let alone think.

His thinking on the other hand was mercifully clear. Or perhaps not, depending on how you looked at it. Desmond could feel the heat sliding around and over him, sensing the power but remaining untouched. It was as if he was made of ice, radiating cold and chilling the air immediately around him.

_Protected._

The word rang through his mind and he knew it was true. Protected like Altair, like Ezio, whom the Apple could not touch. He had been fortunate enough to have the right bloodlines, to inherit the right genes – to inherit _First Civilisation_ genes.

But for all that, he was helpless to actually _do_ anything. Desmond's hands curled into fists as he watched the two otherworldly figures argue over the future of humanity. The resistance granted by his blood was passive. He risked a glance at his father, at Shaun, at Rebecca. They stood, mute and unmoving in the presence of the power of The Ones Who Came Before. He couldn't extend his immunity, couldn't protect them from the overwhelming power of this room. He couldn't find a single goddamn solution to this mess that didn't involve the destruction of the world – either instantly, via a solar flare, or a slow death at the hands of Juno.

Desmond ground his teeth as the two Goddess-like beings finally fell silent and turned to face him. And of course, Juno had planned it that way. This eleventh hour decision was orchestrated by her so that they didn't have _time_ to find another way, to work out how to activate the towers themselves. Because Juno was the only one who knew how. Minerva had known, once upon a time, but millennia of residing with the Grand Temple had given Juno the time she needed to twist the machines into something only she could operate.

"Free me." Her golden eyes burned into Desmond. "And I will save the world."

_And enslave it._

Desmond bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, barely noticing in the midst of his internal agony. Release Juno to both protect the planet and subjugate it? Or allow the solar flare to burn away the world, leaving the last dregs of humanity to begin again from the start of the cycle?

He took a deep breath and forced his mind into stillness. _Think. Which is right? Which is the best decision for everyone? Because the whole world will have to live with whichever I choose._

He thought of the world. Thought of it burning. Thought of the collective knowledge and history of the planet, lost, of humanity beginning anew again. But most of all, he thought of the billions of lives that would be lost and the mere idea of it was enough to make him feel sick with horror.

_My first instinct is to save_. Desmond closed his eyes. _Can the world live with the alternative then?_

The thought of humanity being subjugated, stripped of all freedom and yoked to the will of another was enough to ignite a blaze of anger and pride within him, an instinctive rebellion; every fibre of his being thundered a resounding _NO! _It was enough to stir the ghosts of the ancestors who slept within his mind and their voices mingled in his head, a furious and defiant chorus. _I bow to no one!_

_And so I am left with the same impossible decision._ Desmond had to resist the urge to drop his head into his hands. Then a thought dawned upon him and the sudden blaze of hope that accompanied it was almost painful in its intensity. _Unless…unless…_

Humanity would not just lie down at Juno's feet and accept her rule. Was his instinctive reaction to the idea of enslavement not proof enough of that? Was history not proof enough of that? Rebellion was in their blood. Even when the First Civilisation was at its height, even when the Pieces of Eden controlled humanity's very thoughts, Adam and Eve had managed to break free and instigate a rebellion that had rocked the older race to its foundations. And the very fact they had been able to do so proved that the First Civilisation's methods of control were not absolute, not infallible.

Desmond opened his eyes, filled with new determination. Better to save the world and allow the human race the chance to fight back, than condemn it to oblivion. _Where there's life, there's hope._

"Enough!" The two glowing figures ceased their argument and turned to look at him. "The decision's made, Minerva." His tone was enough to tell her his choice.

The Goddess looked both taken aback and dismayed. "She will enslave your kind, Desmond. Is this not why you fight? Is this not why you came here? To ensure not just your race's future, but also its freedom?" Minerva implored.

_She doesn't understand. _"Minerva, whatever Juno's planning – however terrible it might seem today, we'll find a way to stop it. But the alternative – what you want – there's no hope there," Desmond tried to explain, to make her understand. Juno was looking at her too, a terrible smile gracing her lips.

The other Goddess drew back and Desmond could see at once that he hadn't succeeded. "If you free her, you'll be destroyed."

He could hear the undercurrent of desperation in her voice and knew she had appealed to his sense of self-preservation as a last resort. It didn't touch him though. He couldn't explain it, but as soon he had seen the pedestal, he had known that to touch it was to die. Maybe it was one of the many stolen memories he possessed; maybe it was merely the uncanny instincts he had inherited from the First Civilisation. Whatever the reason, he had known that he would not survive this decision.

_One life for many. Seems a fair trade._ He ignored his own fear, drawing on years of practice – many of them not his own – to push it down deep. It didn't matter. It was a knee-jerk reaction to the thought of dying; his survival instinct kicking in. There were more important things than stake here than his life.

"It will happen in an instant. There will be no pain." Juno retorted, cutting off Minerva's last ditch attempt at changing Desmond's mind, not even looking at the other Goddess. Her voice was coaxing as she gazed earnestly at Desmond, but her golden eyes were bright with an undisguised, almost feral eagerness. She knew she had won.

"You mustn't!" The desperation was clear in Minerva's voice and the sound of it made guilt shoot through Desmond. How could he convince her? How could he possibly convey his certainty that humanity would not willingly submit to Juno, that they would not go without a fight? He couldn't – he hadn't the time. The thought nearly made him laugh, in that horrible, choked, half-hysterical kind of way. Lack of time was the whole damn problem in the first place. In the end, he just said gently, "It's done, Minerva. The decision's made."

She backed away and when she spoke, her voice was breaking with emotion. "Then the consequences of this mistake are yours to live and _die_ with." Minerva flickered out of existence, hazing into gold light and then into nothingness, followed by Juno, still wearing that terrible smile.

Desmond turned to his fellow Assassins, who blinked and appeared to come out of their daze a little, as the power of the Precursors faded slightly without their direct presence. His father's gaze in particular sharpened as Desmond began to speak. "You need to go. All of you, now. Get as far away from here as you can –"

"Come with us!" William Miles interrupted, grabbing him firmly by the shoulder. "We'll find another way, it doesn't have to be like this –"

Desmond looked down and swallowed hard. For a moment he wanted nothing more than to agree, to flee the Grand Temple with his father and his friends. But he had made his choice. Humanity lived or died today depending on his actions and he would not run. "There isn't time," he managed to say. "You know that."

William looked torn, anguish and defeat warring on his face. He knew. "Son…"

If anything, the lump in Desmond's throat got even bigger. He gently pulled his dad's hand from his shoulder and gripped both of his forearms tightly, trying to convey both emotion and urgency. "You know it's true. It's already started. I need to do this now. Go, quickly." The pulse of Juno's presence grew brighter again behind him and William's expression became dazed again. "Go!" Desmond urged, giving his father a gentle shove. "You need to go!"

William Miles stumbled away, as if in a dream, Rebecca and Shaun trailing after him like lost sheep. Then they broke into a jog, and then a sprint, Desmond's words turned into a command by the power saturating the walls of the temple.

He watched them until they were out of sight. And suddenly there was nothing left to do. Nothing left except that final action. Desmond took a deep breath, stilled the tremors in his hands and ascended the steps to the pedestal. The Eye sat directly before him, the sphere glowing with a soft white-green light. His touch – the touch of someone with a remarkably high concentration of First Civilisation genes – would release Juno from her prison. He could sense her, close by though unseen. Her anticipation was like an electric charge in the air, waves of heat and power buffeting against his ice.

_She is the reason for all of this._

Desmond was suddenly aware of just how much he hated her in that moment. He hated her for her manipulation, stretching across space and time. He hated her for withholding the knowledge of how to save the planet. But most of all, he hated her for forcing him into this choice. The decision was his; but it had been her options. He could only hope that after he was gone, humanity would be able to walk the third path he had seen, a path constructed solely of willpower, of the pride and resilience and the fierce instinct in humans that time and time again had said _no._

_I hope you give her hell._

And his hand came down on the sphere.

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**A/N: I suppose you could consider it canon up until this point, apart from a few minor dialogue tweaks. :P I've already finished this story, the rest just needs a few edits and will be up ASAP.**


	2. Liberty

**A/N: Disclaimer: Don't own it.**

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**Rebellion is in Our Blood**

**Chapter Two: Liberty**

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The instant Desmond's hand touched the Eye, brilliant gold-white light erupted around him, bursting up from the floor and flaring in those all-too-familiar angular lines. Desmond barely had a second to see them and think _Apple_ and _power _and _control_ before the pain hit him.

It drove up through him, through the Eye, through his hand, through his arm, up into his brain. It was pain beyond pain, beyond comprehension, and only the shock of it, hitting him like a punch in gut and stealing his breath, kept him from screaming.

_You lying bitch._

But that wasn't even the worst of it. The reason for the pain, the instant, dreadful, knowledge as Desmond sensed the overwhelming presence behind the pain, the driving force boring into his brain, and the single moment of awful clarity as he recalled her earlier words –

_We asked ourselves then; what if the body might be replaced? With something stronger. Something better. So we forged a new vessel. One that might endure. It proved easy enough to enter…but to leave…to leave required something more….something wrong. And so this too they abandoned. I wondered though…were they right to turn away?_

He had known to release Juno from the walls from the walls of the Grand Temple would require his death. But he hadn't known it would mean his utter destruction. Her shining presence flooded his mind with fire and light, blinding and brilliant, sweeping across his consciousness with all the harsh, unforgiving strength of a sun. He could feel himself burning away, his memories, his mind, disintegrating at the edges, eating inwards.

But far worse than that still was the sense of horror that filled him, as the contact with her mind allowed him to glimpse her thoughts. Her mind blazed with ferocious intent. She would burn him alive within his own mind, slowly dissolve his sense of identity, let him feel his mind wither into nothingness.

_Aita._

It was grief and rage and fury and despair and bloodlust and insanity – cold, bright, intelligent insanity, hammered diamond hard – all burning with strength of a Goddess and a need for revenge that had festered for millennia.

**I will burn you all slowly, burn the minds out of you, you fear order, your kind, I will **_**make**_** you fear it you base creatures, unworthy of our gifts, unworthy of **_**life**_** –**

His body and mind howled desperately, united in their horror and rage and revulsion at the utter wrongness of it.

_No! You will not do this thing!_

Desmond's entire body convulsed desperately, straining upwards, _away, away, _his left hand flying to his right wrist, frantically yanking in an attempt to separate it from the source of the pain. But his right hand remained stubbornly stuck to the Eye, Juno's obliterating presence coursing powerfully through the physical connection.

**Stop that.**

She flared bright in his mind and to Desmond's horror, his body obeyed her, instinctively, automatically. The force of the command drove him to his knees, shins crashing painfully into the floor, one hand still pulled awkwardly above his head.

_No!_ Desmond clawed desperately for strength, to push her away, to put up mental barriers, _anything_ –

**You cannot hope to win.**

It was the truth and it was awful. This was his mind but Juno was nothing _but _consciousness. She had thousands of years of experience in mental discipline, of existence without a body, of holding her mind together within a different environment.

**You will burn.**

The light blazed across his mind and Desmond felt the edges of his consciousness blacken and char, warping in the heat. He reached for the ice, the ice that had rendered him untouchable to Precursor control but she was inside him now, she had breached every defence, every protection his bloodline had afforded him, _he had let her in and that made all the difference he realised now, too late, far, far too late –_

_Get out. _Still he struggled, pushing her away, no matter how feeble, how futile, the effort. He felt her contempt, felt her sweep aside the fragile barriers he had been erecting and it ignited a blaze of pride and anger within him. He clung to the emotion, drove it deep and it lent him strength; he pushed back hard. It was like pushing against rock, against granite, like trying to move a mountain. She ground on inexorably, obliterating everything in her path. Desmond could feel parts of himself slipping away, burning and breaking apart –

And then he felt it. The exact moment when her destructive blaze of heat and light touched the walls within his mind. The barriers that he had struggled so hard to create, the barriers that separated _his_ memories from those of his ancestors. The barriers that kept him sane.

_Oh God, no._

Except – except –

Maybe this was it. A solution. His mind raced, frantically evaluating. He could not win. But maybe there was a way to make her lose.

Desmond took a deep breath, pushing aside his fear, his reluctance. He had spent so long trying to attain mental control, to separate himself from the ghosts inhabiting his head, it felt like anathema to give it up. He felt his ancestors stir behind their barriers, shifting, with a growing sense of anger as the first rays of Juno's light swept over them. _Better to lose myself to them than to her._

The weary thought enabled Desmond to smile in grim amusement, just a little, as he pressed himself back into the barriers separating himself from his ancestors and let go.

The walls dropped and Desmond was submerged in the tidal wave that crashed outwards, flooding across his mental landscape –

_Feet pounding hard across an Arce rooftop, blazing sun on his back, cool metal in his calloused palm –_

– _diving from a bridge, falling two stories, feeling whistle and whip of wind through his robes, the impact as he is swallowed up by the murky waters of a Venetian canal –_

– _the feeling of rough bark beneath his fingertips, leaping through the air in a fluid, graceful motion that feels almost like flying, glimpsing a flash of red uniform through the trees and changing course –_

Desmond braced, trying to keep a small portion of himself above the flood as Altaïr, Ezio and Connor swept past him in a confused, churning rush of memories. They swirled around him, a sea of ice and determination, their emotions, their strength, their very _selves_ flowing into him. And he felt Juno's influence recede.

Just a little. But it was enough.

She was still there, blazing bright – though Desmond could feel her consciousness tinged with confusion now – but separated from him by the ghosts of his ancestors.

He had traded one loss of sanity for another, though. He was barely holding on, clinging to his own mind by the barest of fingertips, and he had no idea if this would work. He hoped with strength of desperation, prayed to a God he didn't believe in and gathered his remaining strength for one last try.

_Listen to me!_

The ghosts of his ancestors did not respond, continuing to surge and crash around him, eroding his mind. Desmond gathered himself, the last strands of his fraying mind and tried again. He braced hard and pushed out.

_LISTEN TO ME!_

The roar echoed across the sea of ice and memories. They ceased to move. Desmond didn't waste time on relief and instead latched onto the opportunity instantly, desperately. He poured knowledge into the ghostly imprints of his ancestors residing in his mind, letting his thoughts, his memories flood out across _them._

_If this fails, I will be lost for sure._

He pushed the thought away savagely and focused harder on Altaïr, on Ezio, on Connor. He filled his ancestors with his memories of Juno, pouring them out in a desperate, jumbled rush. _They created us to be controlled, they built us in their image but made us lesser – we do not have knowledge, the sixth sense, the instinctive knowing of the world around us, of the hearts and minds of others, only fragments and even then, only for those with their blood and we are left searching desperately for understanding, we can only try and never __**know**__ and they distain us for it – she seeks to enslave us again, because they created us to be bent to their will and she thinks it her right, you have help me –_

_Help me stop her._

_Please._

_Our freedom depends upon it._

_And it cannot be done alone._

For a moment, there was nothing. Then there came the sound of a distant roar. A battle cry, a fierce answering call. Then the great tidal wave of their anger swept over him and past him, surging to crash down upon Juno.

Desmond could have wept with relief. They had answered, shadows of long dead people that they were, breathed into life by his own mind. But it wasn't enough. He delved down deeper, seeking his other ancestors, the ones he had never melded with. Hundreds, if not thousands of Assassins. The trail was surprisingly easy to find; but then Juno's presence had fractured parts of his mind, shaking loose things that were never meant to be touched consciously. He followed the path of the Animus, the bright, sparking trail that had split open his mind again and again.

_This will destroy me._

_Worth it though. _The thought brought a wild, reckless smile to his lips as he tore open the connection voluntarily.

Pain ripped up through his mind and he might have been screaming. It was hard to tell. Hundreds of voices stampeded through his head; a thousand names echoed through his brain, called from a thousand pairs of lips, memories of countless lifetimes roaring through his head with the strength of a tsunami.

Juno was screaming too, he was distantly aware of that, but his mind had sank under the weight of so many others. They were all fainter and less defined than the three Assassins whose memories he had lived – but their collective strength was overwhelming.

_**The Pieces of Eden were used to command. To control. To own.**_

Juno screamed, lashing out at the human tide surging around her. Her fire and light burned away whole swathes of memories, ghosts of Assassins long dead breaking apart and fluttering away like ash on the breeze. But when they fell, more rose to take their place.

_**But we soon discovered another use. When enough sat in thrall and were told to believe, their thoughts took on form. What was imagined, became real.**_

A freezing wind howled across Desmond's mind, chasing away the heat and extinguishing his burning memories. From the sea of humanity, ice spread, unfurling tendrils across his mental landscape. The shades of Altaïr, Ezio and Connor, more real and defined than any of the others, let loose a wordless cry, a challenge, a rallying call. A thousand minds ceased their aimless surging and their attention sharpened, focusing on the three Assassins.

_**If a hundred minds could wish away a wall, or create a tree, what might a thousand do? Ten thousand? More?**_

A sword, a gun, a tomahawk pointed at the Precursor's consciousness and intent blazed out across the sea of humanity. Then, as one, they turned. Juno screamed as they swamped her, as she was borne down under the weight of humans who had dedicated their lives to preservation of life and liberty.

_**Might we change the consensus, and will the threat away?**_

An angry, wordless cry shook Desmond's mind to its foundations, a cry echoed by a thousand throats.

_I bow to no one!_

Their collective strength forced Juno down, down, down – pain exploded in Desmond's temples as she screamed, a long, drawn-out sound of helpless fury and disbelief. Then it cut off suddenly and Desmond abruptly regained awareness of his physical body, just long enough to feel his hand leave the Eye. Then his exhausted body fell sideways, unable to support itself and his head cracked hard off the floor. Red and black bloomed behind his eyes and he sank finally, gratefully, into unconsciousness.

_**In this way, we would change the consensus. We would save the world.**_


	3. And the Pursuit of Happiness

**A/N: Disclaimer: Don't own it.**

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**Rebellion is in Our Blood**

**Chapter Three: And the Pursuit of Happiness**

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The first thing Desmond was aware of was the cool stone beneath his cheek. The next was pain. He inhaled sharply at the sensation and immediately wished he hadn't. The movement aggravated the throbbing in his head, sending waves of stabbing pain through his skull.

As he lay still, gritting his teeth and waiting for feeling to subside, his brain slowly began to function. What he discovered surprised him immensely.

_I'm not insane._

At least, he assumed so. But then, what crazy person actually _knew_ they were crazy?

_Best not go there._

Desmond carefully took stock of his mind. It felt raw and ragged, frayed at edges and streaked with scorch marks – but for the most part, intact. He was just beginning the painstaking process of gathering up the loose strands of his consciousness, when something caught his attention. He paused, trying to find it again. His mind felt heavy, tired and foggy; it was an effort just to think coherently.

There it was again. A bright flash of all-too-familiar light. Suddenly wary, Desmond reached out and touched –

_Juno_.

He recoiled instinctively, fear shooting through him. _What? I thought – I thought she was gone! _ His mind sped up, trying frantically to recall the last thing that happened before he had fallen unconscious.

_Juno, sinking under the weight of hundreds of minds…_

_Down…_

_Down…_

_Buried…_

_But not gone._

Confusion ran through him. His mind had felt safe when he had awoken. Raw and wounded, but empty of its brutal invader. He reached down tentatively, seeking the dangerous light, ready to withdraw at a moment's notice.

_There._

Juno was buried. Deep below the bedrock of his mind, shone the brilliance of an angry sun – an angry sun, but a subdued one. And between him and her – Desmond's eyes widened in wonder. Now that he could feel it, he wondered how he had missed them before. A thousand whispering voices, quiet, feather-light, drifting just below the range of his conscious mind. A sea of ghosts, gentle and icy, peaceful now, between him and the brilliant wrath of the shining Goddess below.

Protecting him.

Shielding his mind from the Precursor who now shared part of it.

Desmond could only lie there, overwhelmed for a moment. He couldn't even begin to comprehend how it had happened, why he wasn't insane from either the presence of Juno or the hundreds of his ancestors in his head. Somehow…somehow…his mind was his own.

The strength of his relief caught him off guard and his chest contracted hard with the power of the emotion. Desmond rolled onto hands and knees with difficulty and then sat back on his heels, breathing hard with the effort. His hands were shaking, his head was spinning from the sudden movement, and vision blurred as emotion closed up his throat.

His mind was bruised.

Battered.

But still his own.

And that meant more than he could ever convey.

Desmond stayed where he was for a moment, trying to wrestle his emotions back under control. A breakdown would have to wait – there was something else, something important that needed to be done. Then he remembered and horror shot through him.

_Oh God. The solar flare._

When she had invaded his mind and he had glimpsed her plan for humanity, his rebellion had been furious and instinctive, his previous decision entirely forgotten. Desmond had been resolved to fight her to the bitter end, futility be damned. But then he had _won._ Thanks to his heritage. Thanks to his fucked-up mind, torn open time and time again by the Animus. Thanks to the combined strength of a thousand ancestors.

But now humanity was left with same problem as before. And only one option was left open.

**They will still burn.**

Her voice was the barest sound, echoing up from far below. It was edged in heat and light, crawling with malice.

**Not the way I wanted them to, but they will burn.**

_No. There has to be another way._ Desmond ground his teeth. _This can't be the end._

**There isn't, and it is. **Smugness radiated from her, tinged with disappointment. **You have caged me. I can no longer help them.**

_I think humanity can do without your sort of help._

**They would have lived. For a short while.**

_And what use is life without liberty?_

There was no verbal reply, just a faint echo of contempt.

_You disagree? Tell me, Juno, do you like being caged?_

That struck a chord and Desmond felt her stir, enraged. **You worthless, base creature, **_**you are weak! **_**You cannot hold me forever –**

_I will hold you for the rest of my life, however short that may be,_ Desmond thought grimly. _And when I die, I will take you with me._

A roar echoed up from below and a flare of heat.

_You will burn with us, if that is our fate._

She fell silent but he could feel her rage roiling far below. Desmond exhaled heavily and closed his eyes, trying desperately to think of a solution. But he could find none. Without Juno, without her knowledge of how to activate the towers, they were doomed –

His eyes snapped open again. _Knowledge._

_JUNO! _His mental shout was furious. He could feel her start at the intensity of it and it spurred him on. _Do you need to activate those towers in person or can it be done by someone else? _

She did not answer verbally but she didn't need to. He could feel the answer flicker across her consciousness.

_Anyone with First Civilisation genes, then? _ Desmond asked grimly. _And the knowledge of how to do it of course._

Her fury flickered deep below, the bright shining presence flaring with anger as he picked up the nuances of her thoughts. The problem with Juno, Desmond suddenly realised, was that she had never needed restraint. She had had no need to conceal her thoughts or emotions – the minds that she invaded did not survive her intrusion.

_Tell me,_ he demanded, his own fury growing. _Tell me now! How do I activate the towers?_

She tried to hide it. He could feel it, the way that she withdrew, tried to disguise the knowledge that his question brought to the forethought of her consciousness. But this was his mind and she had lost the battle for possession of it. Her mental presence was strong and disciplined but it resided within _his _consciousness now, and as such, wisps of her thoughts were soaked up by her surroundings. He reached for them and the answer blazed across his mind.

It stunned him, the sheer _knowing_ of it. He gasped under the onslaught of information, grabbing for his hard-won control to steady the flood. It subsided, symbols and lines and numbers whirling around him, blue-white, glowing in the dark.

Then urgency kicked in. Desmond pushed himself to his feet and began a sort of hobbling, unsteady run, ignoring the roars of an enraged Juno echoing within his mind. Somehow, inexplicably, he knew exactly how much time he had to spare until the solar flare reached Earth. And it wasn't much.

He picked up speed as his stiff body eased into the gait and began to loosen up. The slap of his footsteps against the stone floor was loud in the silence of the Grand Temple, the only sound other than the low hum that always seemed to permeate the air.

**Stop! Stop! I command you –**

He passed through the semi-twilight of the Temple, lit only by that dim, murky, cold blue-white light. Instinct not his own guided his body and he turned left, starting to ascend a massive flight of stairs.

**HUMAN!**

The roar made him falter momentarily but he pressed on, cresting the staircase and coming face to face with a huge set of double doors, one slightly ajar.

_**WILL YOU NEVER LISTEN? WILL YOU NEVER LEARN?**_

Desmond slipped through the gap and halted for a moment, staring in awe at the sight of the four massive towers before him. At least forty stories tall, they stretched away, disappearing into the upper reaches of the enormous chamber. He gave himself a shake and ran forwards again, heading for the base of one of the towers.

_**WHY DO YOU PERSIST IN YOUR FOLLY?**_

Desmond took a deep breath and placed shaking hands on the tower, dwarfed by its colossal form. He reached for the knowledge and then opened his mind, sending it forth.

_What is consciousness, but a series of electrical impulses…_

And the _knowing_ leapt forward into the tower, a burst of sleek blue sparks, spiralling up into the metal construct...

…_And the body a vessel to hold these sparks._

The tower burst into radiant life, igniting in a hum of machinery. One by one, the other towers followed suit, blue-white light racing up their sides, crackling over the metal, climbing high into the far reaches of the chamber and illuminating the dark.

_**Why do you continue? You base creatures, less-thans, struggling pitifully for light, for knowledge, for understanding, crawling forwards in the endless night of your existence with no hope of ever even touching the knowing?**_

Desmond leaned tiredly against the wall, watching the light dance across the tops of the towers, unable to even feel surprise as the ceiling melted away to reveal a tiny square of stars far above.

_We are what you made us, Juno._

She fell silent.

_If we lack something, if we feel its loss keenly enough to dedicate our lives to its search, it is because you created us that way._

Desmond continued to watch that tiny sliver of starry sky far above. He felt light-headed, as though his head might float away from his shoulders. In contrast, exhaustion pulled at his limbs.

_But at the same time…we are also more._

He felt her confusion but at that moment was distracted by something else. A growing light, high above in the sky, orange-yellow. His eyes widened as realisation struck him. A memory leapt to the surface…

_In the beginning, when we thought we could be saved, we sought to face the sun's wrath and contain it…four towers would be built, to pull her fury into this place and dispel it…_

"Aw, _hell_ no."

The sound of his own voice startled him, hoarse and dry, but it was enough to jar him into action. Desmond turned and ran.

Ran out of the tower chamber. Down the stairs. Along the high-ceilinged passageway. Behind him he could sense, rather than see, the growing intensity of light. His shadow stretched long in front of him, etched starkly against the floor.

_Faster._

He dug deep and put on more speed. Down another flight of stairs. Across the long chamber in which he, his friends and his father had laboured for so long, working to bring down the barrier blocking them access to the rest of the Grand Temple.

_Nearly there. Don't look back._

Orange-golden light flared behind him and he could a dull roaring in the distance. His feet sank into soil instead of stone and he scrambled headlong up the passageway. He dug in and pulled, powerful muscles working in tandem to haul him up the last stretch.

Desmond emerged from the mouth of cave and nearly fell. His limbs were shaking with adrenaline and he found it hard to remain steady. Then a strange sensation lurched up through the soles of his feet and he almost did topple at that. A deep throbbing ; the very ground was shaking. He spun around and his mouth opened slightly in awe.

A shimmering curtain of light covered the night sky; a shining resplendent Aurora Borealis that stretched from horizon to horizon, only broken in a single place. A place that was nearly directly above him. The shimmering, dancing lights drew down the solar flare, funnelling the deadly golden-orange energy into a tight coil that spiralled down from the heavens, directly into the mountains that housed the Grand Temple.

Desmond could only stare, awed by the sheer, raw, primal power of the spectacle. Even contained as it was, he could feel the heat and destructive power radiating from the massive coil of solar energy. He watched, its light bathing him in brilliance, as it spiralled down and down, a pulsing beam of seemingly never-ending energy. He watched, barely noticing as his exhausted body delivered him to the ground, refusing to accept any more commands. He watched, his exhausted mind unable to do anything more.

Dawn was just breaking in the east when it finally stopped. There was a shift in the air, a sense of slowing. Then the coil thinned noticeably, gradually slowing and finally stopping. Ending. The last few motes of golden light danced in the air, before being drawn down into the Temple. The Aurora Borealis funnel contracted, melting fluidly back up into the curtain covering the sky. And then, that too disappeared, breaking apart and dissolving, rippling into nothingness.

Desmond stared up at the sky. The first streaks of dawn were brightening the vast expanse, turning it pale blue. It looked just as it did any other day. As if nothing had happened.

**But something **_**has**_** happened. **

Desmond just nodded in recognition of her words. His mind was blank with exhaustion.

**Defiant creature.**

"DESMOND!"

The joyful cry made his head jerk up. His tired eyes squinted against the gentle light of dawn, picking out three silhouettes on the hill above him. The sight was enough to make tears unexpectedly prick the corners of his eyes. Emotion bubbled up as he rose to meet them.

_I told you before, Juno. Rebellion is in our blood._

Rebecca hit him first, wrapping him in a hug and crying uncontrollably; Shaun and William Miles not far behind. Far above them, light raced across the sky, unfurling golden banners as a new dawn broke upon the world.

* * *

**A/N: Damnit. *sniffle* It totally ended like this, okay?**

_**Edit**_

**M'kay, I've had a couple of questions in the reviews that I can't actually answer due to them being anonymous reviews, so I can only hope you guys see my reply here since I have no other way to respond:**

**will zona - **_is this story a link to ac 4 black flag?_

I suppose you could say that because it's an alternative ending to AC3, that automatically makes this story a link to AC4: Black Flag since that's the next game in the sequence. :) If you mean 'is there a direct link?' I'd have to say 'no', since I have no idea what Ubisoft are going to do now for the 'future' part of that game (it'll undoubtedly not match up with my story anyway, considering its fairly certain that Desmond is dead in canon.) If you mean, is this story a direct link to 'past' part of AC4: Black Flag, I suppose you could consider it an explanation for the fact that Edward Kenway's memories are being relived in the next game, despite the fact that Desmond's dead. :) Again, I'm sure that there'll be a different explanation when the new game comes out. And finally, if you mean 'I am continuing this story until it links up with AC4: Black Flag and shows the reason for Desmond reliving Edward's memories?' - then no. :P

**will zona** - _are you going to make a sequel?_

Nope. :P There's definite potential, no denying that - but the ideas I have are vast in scope, not to mention completely vague (like Desmond gradually becomes super-badass thanks to all his Bleeding Effect-ness and eventually takes charge of the modern-day Assassins or something along those lines) and I just don't have the time to write something that big.

**Awesomeperson333 - **_Can you continue this Fanfic please?_

See above answer. :P


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